Winning Her Over
by The Best Companion
Summary: The Doctor meets a woman that seems perfect for him, but is she interested in the Doctor? First chapter is a prelude for the rest of the story. Rated T for later chapters just in case. Eleventh Doctor/OC
1. Prelude

**This first chapter is a lead into the rest of the story. No Amy or Rory, no mention of River ever existing (no offense to her, I love her, she's one of my absolute favorites). Eleventh Doctor and his new love (can't tell you her name until the very end). She was based almost 100% on my muse. Doctor's POV. Enjoy!**

I've been alive for almost a thousand years, regenerated ten times, been all through time and space, met the Queen of England, faked death, played a human, defeated the Daleks and the Silence, and more. I've looked death in the face and didn't flinch. I smiled at it, in fact, tempting fate. I'd never been afraid of dying. Of others dying, yes. I hate it when others die because of me. But other than that, I've been called fearless.

I've never been so utterly _terrified_ in all my life.

All because of _her_.

She was sweet, beautiful, caring. Her eyes were a deep, soft blue, her hair going just past her shoulders in gentle blonde waves. She couldn't weight more than 110 pounds, standing at 5'6", and when she smiled, the whole room lit up. Innocent. Nothing to fear from the pure embodiment of innocence, right? Wrong.

She wasn't aggressive, she wasn't passive. She was balanced in between. She worked for the FBI, and she carried a gun. I don't like weapons, but I couldn't picture her without it. She _was_ a fighter, but she mourned the loss of life as I did. She was so calm, but quick-tempered, and if you tried to hurt the people she loved, she'd be on you faster than light. She loved the whole theory of time as a non-linear event, like it was a big knot of stuff. Of course she was as close to right as a human could be.

She had a father, mother, brother, the whole movie family. Her brother, Jake, had a little daughter when he was "fooling around" with his girlfriend, who later become his wife, when he was 17. She thought her niece, Tasha, was the most adorable thing in the world, and you could tell that Tasha spent more time with her aunt than her mother. And why wouldn't Tasha want to be around her aunt? Her aunt was wonderful, and happy almost all the time. Her aunt would sneak around and take Tasha to things her mother hadn't wanted her to go to, but Tasha was perfectly safe with her aunt.

And I didn't realise why I was so terrified of a solitary human woman until this moment. Looking down on her, sitting at her desk, writing away about something I wasn't concerned about, her humming tunelessly, I realised.

I loved her. I was in love with a human. In love with her undoubtedly. How had it gotten to this?

Oh, Clara Wildman, why you?


	2. Intruder

**This chapter will be the start of the story and is from Clara's POV. **

Sirens started to go off, lights flashing red. I have been with my department of the FBI for five years now, been the head of it for two, and never had the alert go off. So I was reasonably worried now that it did.

I made my way up a flight of stairs into the Base Command room, my heels clicking as they announced my approach. Two of my agents looked up as I entered the room.

"What is it, Wayde?" I asked the brown haired man sitting at one of the security monitors.

"There's one unidentified person in Level 7, Section 34." It was Eric, a dirty blonde, who answered me rather than Wayde. "Should I send a team?"

"No, I'll handle it." I answered, turning away and heading back down the stairs, towards the elevators, pulling my Glock 23 out of its holester.

"Be careful, babe." He called, and waved my hand in acceptance. My department generally handled the "top secret" items and was nicknamed "Area 51" because of all the so-called alien tech we have on the grounds. My department was also very informal, everyone was on a first-name basis, no one called me sir or ma'am, and nicknames popped up all over the place, just like Eric calling me babe.

I tapped my heel as I went down the 5 levels to the 7th floor. When the doors opened, I walked out and headed down the corridor to the 34th section, having entered in the 29th. When I'd reached the 33rd, my radio went off.

"Babe, we think he's in the storage room." Eric said.

"Understood." I answered, and raised my weapon as I reached the first door in Section 34, the storage room. Pushing the door open quietly, I looked around the general area of the door. Nothing. I walked in, looking around me as I went. Nothng for the first few rows. But when I got to the sixth row, I froze. There was a man standing there, looking at the labels on the boxes. He was alone.

Silently making my way up behind him, I cocked my gun and pressed it against the back of his head.

"Give me a reason not to shoot you right this second." I said, rather softly.

He straightened up and I realised he was _tall_. He has to be at least 5'11", but he wasn't muscular. If it came hand-to-hand, I wasn't sure who'd win. But then again, I had the gun.

"I don't do weapons." He answered with a British accent. It's be a shame to end that voice.

"But I _do_." I retorted. "Turn around. _Slowly_."

He did, both his hands in his pockets, the barrel of my gun now pressed against his forehead. He was attractive, I wouldn't deny that. Along with being 5'11", he had long (for a boy's cut) hair that was brown with a hint of auburn in it, dark green eyes, and was wearing a plain brown tweed jacket with elbow patches, a dress shirt, bow tie, suspenders under the jacket and atop the shirt, a gold wrist watch with the clockface pointed towards his body, blue trousers, and black boots.

He was regarding me much the same way I had him. But I had been _subtle_. He was not. His eyes raked over my body with what I could only describe as amusement in them. Yes, I knew I was, in other people's words, hot, beautiful, that sort of thing. I stand at 5'6", having wavy blonde hair that goes past my shoulders, soft blue eyes and what Eric called a "rockin' hot body".

"Name." I demanded and his eyes raised to my face.

"I'm the Doctor." He answered.

"Doctor is a medical title. Doctor is a scientist's title. Doctor is _not_ a name."

"It's my name." He countered. "So what's yours?"

I debated telling him, then answered, "Wildman. Clara Wildman."

"Well, Clara Wildman, why don't you put the gun down? I'm not armed, and I don't hurt people." I hesitated. "Put the gun down." He tried quietly.

"I'm warning you now; I'm a quick shooter." I said, and he nodded. I lowered the gun.

"Where, and when, is here?"

I gave him an odd look. "This is the FBI's Advanced Research of Unknown Objects base. The date is September 18, 2012."

"2012." He repeated. "Interesting year it was. Tell me, Clara, how old are you?"

I stared at him, and I don't know why, but I answered him. "I'm 23." I blanked. "How the hell did you get here?"

"My ship."

"Your... ship?"

"Yes, yes." He smiled at me again. "Now, take me to your leader." For some reason, this was funny to him.

"I am my leader. I run this base." I announced.

"Well, take me to your... minors, then." He announced, and I motioned for him to follow me.

He is most definitely a strange man. And I don't know why I didn't pull the tigger, and why I lowered my gun, but I had. I was taking him back to the command center, and what would I tell my agents? That he was "the Doctor"? When I woke up this morning, I hadn't touch I'd be dealing with anything remotely like this.

I grabbed my radio and said into, "Eric, I'm coming back with the unidentified from Section 34."


	3. In My Eyes

**Doctor's POV. Set a few days after the last chapter.**

Clara sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Your impossible."

I wanted to tell her I already knew that, but she already had a bad headache and didn't need that comment or any other one I'd usually make to make it worse.

I frowned. "Do you get headaches often?"

She looked shocked I'd asked her. If it'd been a few days ago, when she'd held a gun to my head, I probably wouldn't have noticed. But I was started to watch her in new way. She was important, I could tell. I don't want her to be hurt, to be in _pain_. I needed her. Not now, but I _would_.

"Yes." She answered me.

"Do they hurt much?"

"Sometimes. They're getting worse."

I pulled my screwdriver from my pocket and pointed it at her. She flinched back, her hand going to her side arm. I pulled it back to look at it, mumbling about it not being a weapon.

"Force of habit." She answered apologetically.

I smiled at her. "I know you police type."

"I'm not the police, Doctor. I'm the FBI. You know, the Feds?" She retorted, and I chuckled. My screwdriver said there was nothing wrong with her, wasn't registering anything.

"Babe, we need you in Ops." A man she'd introduced as Eric said over the radio. I don't know why, but this had really started to bother me over the last few days. I glowered at the radio resting on the table between us.

Clara sighed. She waited another minute, then picked up her radio. "Alright, Eric. I'll be there in a sec."

"I've been meaning to ask you, Clara, why do you let him call you _babe_." I asked, saying babe like it was the most terrible thing to call a person in the whole universe.

She shrugged, slow to stand. "I've known him since high school. He was the only guy I ever trusted. Well, other than my dad." She answered. "He called me babe one day in freshman year and he's been calling me it ever since. I mean, my _dad_ doesn't mind him calling me babe. He's called me babe in front of my dad, even my grandma. Never thought anything of it."

She never thought anything of it. Did she never think he had a crush on her? Isn't that what usually happens? Start off friends, end something more?

"C'mon, Doctor." She said, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "We've got to go to Ops."

"Aren't you going to leave me with an armed guard until you come back?" I asked, shocked. Usually, when she left me, a man with a _really_ big gun came and stood at the door. Not that he wasn't just out of sight now that Clara was in here with me.

"No." Was her simple, calm answer. She stopped at the door. "Are you coming or not?" She asked, and I swear she was teasing me. I followed her out, smiling smugly. Pleased that she'd let me go with her.

Her heels clicked, and I looked at her legs. Well, her feet. But the heels she wore were boots, black, leather boot that ended just below her knees. Her boots led to her legs, which led to the black miniskirt that was _so_ not appropriate for an FBI agent, but was exceptable here only because it was so informal. I wished it were more formal here. Her miniskirt led to the low-cut, tight black top she was wearing, which led to her face, and when my eyes reached her face, I saw her soft lips were turned up in a smile that was only smug. I looked to her arguably equally soft blue eyes and they were smug, too.

"So." I said, averting my gaze. "What's in Ops?"

She shrugged, still smiling. "Don't know yet. We'll see when we get there."

A man stood at attention when we rounded the first corner. Clara signaled for him to stand at ease, then she waved him off when he was about to follow. He hesitated but did as was ordered. She pushed a button, and the elevator doors opened with a ding. We walked in and she hit another button, and we started moving up. She was leisurely resting against the back wall of the elevator, her breathing decidedly long and deep. Pulling. Like she couldn't quite get the air into her lungs. I tried not to stare at her. I have to stop worrying about her.

The elevator door dinged again, opened, and she pushed away from the wall and walked out, with me following her closely. Her Ops was a very loud, busy, but non-crowded room. There were only five people, now seven that Clara and I arrived, and it was louded that a room with twenty-five people.

"What is it, Eric?" She asked, putting her hand on my chest to stop me from walking any further. I placed my hand over hers, holding it there for a minute. Her hand was smaller than mine, her fingers long and slim, soft, capable of handling one, hard-

"We've got a code five." Eric said, and she squeezed my hand before it dropped away from my chest. It was cold without her hand there.

"Code five?" I asked in confusion.

At first, Eric wouldn't answer me. But Clara sent him a look that I can only say in my limit of American gestures as 'tell him, or die'. So, with a resigned sigh, he said, "Code five means that a person who is extremely dangerous has escaped and is in the general area of the base or headquarters recieving the alert."

Clara leaned down and murmured in his ear, "Thank you, Eric, but next time without the attitude?"

"Sure, babe." He answered, turning to smile at her, bringing their faces mere centimetres away from each other. I knew he was doing it to get on my nerves, he could tell I liked being around Clara, didn't like me, knew I didn't like her being called babe. Babe was something you called someone who was hot. Clara might be _hot_ in his eyes, but in mine she was beautiful. I froze, halting my train of thought.

She was beautiful in my eyes?

Where had that come from? What did it matter to me her looks? I guess my companions were good-looking, but had I ever thought of one as beautiful? No, I didn't. And more of where had that come from, where had calling her my companion come from? She wasn't my companion. She was my captor.

"So who is it?" I asked.

"Eric?" Clara pressed when he looked like he wouldn't answer me again.

He turned his chair so he was facing her, his back to me. "Unknown." He answered. "All inmates are reporting to their heads to see who's missing. We'll be the first to know who it is."

"So you called me up here to tell me something you could have over the com?"

"Yeah, I, er, I didn't know if you wanted him-" he pointed his thumb at me over his shoulder. "-to know."

"He's not a security threat, Eric." She literally sang. It was a wonderous sound.

"Yeah, yeah." Eric muttered.

"We'll be in the common area." She told him.

"Common area? Don't you think that's a little risky?" He replied.

"Not a security threat." She repeated. "Don't bother us unless it's urgent, okay?" Eric muttered an annoyed and disappointed "okay" and Clara led us back to the elevator and to the common room.

"What's in the common room?" I asked as we entered the room.

"Books, computers." She smiled. "Comfortable chairs."

We sat down next to each other, and she undid the zippers on her boots and took them off, and raised her feet next to her on the couch she'd sat on. I'd sat at the corner of the couch next to it, a much longer one. They made an "L".

"So." She said slowly. "Tell me about the Doctor."

This probably should worry me. But it didn't. I had a more pressing issue on my mind. Sure, I could tell a possibly trigger-happy FBI agent about my time machine, and she could destroy the whole of time and a bunch of other more important problems...

But she was beautiful in my eyes?

**Wasn't quite sure how to end it and I'm not sure that the last bit makes sense.**


	4. What Else Could Go Wrong?

**My thanks to the people who have been reviewing. The network messed up and said that only one review had been posted, when in fact, there were more. Because of that, I only read them last night after I'd posted the latest chapters. So, once again, thank you.**

**Clara's POV, set right after the last chapter.**

"So." I said slowly, pulling the word out. "Tell me about the Doctor."

He seemed distracted. Thinking about Eric? I'd noticed he'd expressed an... _opposition_ to Eric's use of it, and that Eric knew the Doctor had that feeling and did it excessively to bug him. I would have to tell him to cut it out.

But then he smiled at me and said, "Not much to tell about me. What about Clara Wildman?"

I returned his smile. "Not much to tell about me." I repeated. He chuckled.

"Clara." Came the voice of Wayde, not Eric. Which made me wonder were he was. Sulking, maybe?

"Yes?" I answered, eyes on the Doctor.

"You've got an incoming." No sooner were the words coming through the radio than Eric was running in through the doors, a rather stupidly happy look on his face.

"Clara Wildman, I'm about to make you the happiest woman on the Earth!" He yelled, and the Doctor's eyes darkened as he glared at him. Happiest woman on the Earth? I doubted it. He had a tendancy to exagerate things.

"Oh?" I said, waiting for the not-so-interesting news. Probably going to tell me about some movie.

"I found out who the code five is!" He stopped in front of me, panting. Had he ran down the stairs or was he just seriously out of shape?

"Oh?" I repeated, more interested. This news was better than I thought it'd be.

"Yeah, I wanted to tell you in person!" Why was he so _excited_?

I waited a moment. "Well?" I prompted when he didn't tell me who it was, just kept grinning at me like an idiot.

"Right!" He stopped grinning and handed me an iPad. On the screen was a mug shot of a muscular man with a (lame) tattoo of a dragon on his left bicep and had shaved his head.

"Name?" I asked absently, still looking at the picture.

"Roger Wilson." He answered.

"Don't remember him being a possible security risk." I said and the Doctor looked over at the pictures, leaning close to me. I turned it so he could see it better.

"He wasn't. He was in solitary confinement, showed not signs of agression, you know, the usual stuff they look into to see if the person's a risk."

"So why is he a code five?"

"Doesn't say, babe."

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Doctor?" I asked him, and he looked up at me.

"Yes, Clara?"

"Why so interesting in the picture? You know him?"

"No, I don't know him. But when I travel, I usually fix these things."

"Ah." I said in amusement. Eric was not amused by my amusement. "Any else?" I asked, returning my attention to Eric.

"No." He said, and I handed him the iPad. He gave me a half-smile and left.

"He doesn't like you." I stated the obvious. The Doctor's eyes came to meet mine.

He was studying me, wondering how much my eyes could see. Truthfully, they could see all the emotions that flitted through his eyes. These things couldn't easily be hidden from me.

"No, I guess he doesn't." He answered me.

"Any guesses why?"

He grinned deviously. "Because _you_ do."

"Oh, Doctor." I said, shaking my head. "Eric can deal with you."

"He's going to have to, I suppose. Your not letting me go anytime soon, are you?"

"Never." I teased. He didn't look to bothered by the idea of that.

"So how do you usually handle 'code fives'?" He asked me, changing the subject.

I shrugged. "We haven't had a code five in years. Since I first started, really. But we didn't really handle it ourselves. Nevada PD did. It's just to tell us there might be a threat to our security."

"Has anyone ever gotten in here?"

"Other than you? No, no one has ever just walked in. A guy who had been here for years before I even started lost it and tried to shoot the entire department, though."

He was watching me oddly. Like he wanted to take me and run. Like he was worried about me being hurt. He seemed like an extremely worriable kinda guy to me.

"Babe?" Eric asked over the radio. I ignored him, much to the Doctor's amusement. "Babe?!" Ignored. "BABE!" He sounded like he was yelling. "Babe, if you don't answer me I'm going to come down there and shoot that man-"

I picked up the radio then. "Eric, for god's sake. I'm fine you _saw_ me not even five minutes ago!"

"Your with a hostile. I need you to get away from him now!" He said, and I could hear another man yelling orders. What were they _doing_? "Babe, please tell me your getting away from him?" I wasn't moving. He wasn't moving.

"Eric, are you crazy?"

I got no answer from him. Instead, my answer was a team kicking open the double doors and running in with their M16s at arms. They came in and one grabbed my arm, pulling me up off the couch and pushing me behind him and almost literally shoving the barrel of his gun down the Doctor's throat. Eric came in behind the last man and grabbed me, trying to pull me away from the Doctor.

"Eric, what the hell are you doing?!" I exclaimed.

"Babe- Clara, he's a hostile. He is dangerous. We're going to turn him over to NPD."

"No, we're not!" I declared, wrenching my arm free of his overly tight grasp. He tried to catch my arm, but missed and I stormed back over to the team leader. "What are you doing?"

"Following orders, ma'am." He said, sensing now was crunch time.

"Whose orders?"

"Mr. Jackson's, ma'am."

"And is Mr. Jackson is command of this base?"

"You, ma'am."

"And who do you take orders from?"

"You, ma'am." He repeated.

"So why are you following Mr. Jackson's orders, then?" He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. I nodded to myself then turned to his team. "Stand down." I ordered. They hesitated. "Stand. Down." I said for firmly, and they lowered their weapons. "Your dismissed." I murmured, rubbing my forehead, trying to push away the rapidly forming headache. It wasn't working.

The team left then, an annoyingly frustrated Eric following them a few seconds after. The headache was pounding now. And I was still pretty furious, which was not helping my head whatsoever.

The Doctor was on his feet as soon as they were out the door. He pulled me back to the couch, sitting close next to me, rubbing my back in soothing rhythms, silencing the quiet hum of the several computers on the far side of the room, and dimming the lights to non-existance with that weird metal thing with the green tip. It made a high-frequency sound for a moment, then fell silent, too. Why hadn't I taken it from him? Oh, yeah, he told me it wasn't a weapon, and I'd believed him.

He pulled me back against him, holding me tightly and remaining perfectly silent.

**Doctor's POV**

"Your dismissed." Clara murmured, one hand on her hip and the other rubbing her forehead, clearly unhappy with what had just transpired. Probably had a headache again. All these headaches... this job wasn't good for her health.

The big guns left, and the brilliant man who'd given the order to bring them here, left a moment after they did. As soon as he was out the door, I was at Clara's side, pulling her back to the couch on which I sat with her this time, close, rubbing her back gently. There was a quiet hum coming from the other side of the room, which I saw as a bunch of computers. The lights were blinding, too. I grabbed my screwdriver and quiet the computers, and then dimmed the lights until they were practically off. She made a face at the sound of my screwdriver, it was pretty high-pitched. But then it was quiet, and it was just me and her, undisturbed. Hopefully. Unless that man would bother her again.

I pulled her back against me, putting my arms around her, keeping still as only I could and perfectly quiet. I'm not sure how long we stayed, just sitting in the close-to complete darkest, maybe a few hours. But it had to have been a while, I know that. Eventually, Clara sighed, stirred, and I released her reluctantly.

"I have to fill out some reports." She said quietly.

"Is your headache gone?" I asked. I wasn't going to let her go anywhere if she still had one. Though I didn't want to let her go anywhere at all.

"For a while, yes." A while? Had she pretended to still have one to stay with me? "I wanted to make sure it was gone. It was a _killer_." She announced. Oh. Maybe not, then.

"I suggest you stay away from stress tiggers. Namely one Eric Jackson." I said, taking one of her hands in mine.

"I will. Thank you, Doctor." She squeezed my hand, let it go, and stood up. "Going to come with me?"

I grinned at her. "Do you even have to ask?" I stood up and we headed up to the command center. Eric eyed her as we walked in. She ignored everyone in the room as we headed towards a large side room that I assumed was her office. She stopped at the door, placed a hand on the frame and turned to Eric.

"Don't bother us, Eric." She said, then walked into the room, closing the door when I crossed the threshold.

"Office?" I asked her.

"Yep." She said, smiling at me.

"So." I started, looking around. I noticed a picture of a little girl. Her daughter? I moved to get a better look. It said "To Aunt Clara" on it. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Not her daughter. "What reports do you have to fill out?"

"A few. You might want to sit down." She answered, pulling out a few folders out of her desk. She picked up a pen, and it made a clicking sound. I sat down in a comfortable chair and watched her for a few minutes. She turned on a stereo via a remote control next to her on the desk. I don't know what the music was but the station identified the style as "rock". She seemed to find it soothing. She was very interesting to watch, the way her hand made the pen flit across the page, but humans were uncomfortable with being watched so closely. So I stood up and walked to the wall beside the stereo, where a bookshelf containing many books were. I looked at the names. A few were novels, some poems, some short stories, and a few phychology books.

A sweet, delicate sound started up behind me, and I turned quickly to see what could sound so wonderful, and came to see it was Clara. She was humming along with whatever song was playing, and it was perfect. I walked to the edge of her desk, and she didn't look up.

She was so important to me now. Why? I looked at her, thinking, a crease forming between my eyes. Thinking. The crease disappeared with a great realization.

Oh dear god.


	5. Outside The Facility

**The locations I used in this chapter are real places. Lots of people know about Las Vegas, but I don't think anyone's ever heard of Summerlin South. It Googled it and it's actually about 20 minutes outside of Vegas and looks like a very nice place.**

**Doctor's POV, continued from last chapter's time**

Looking down on her, humming so sweetly, so tunelessly now the song had ended, I realised just why Clara was so important to me. Why'd it taken so long for me to realise?

I loved her.

Clara, Clara, Clara. How had you, of the many billions of women in the universe, make me fall in love with you? I slowly walked to the chair and sat down, eyes still locked on her. I couldn't love her. Because I loved her, I couldn't love her. She couldn't be hurt because of me, not by the Daleks, not by the Cybermen, not by anyone or anything. I wanted her biggest fear to be that man Eric. I should have left. I should leave now.

Clara was scribbling furiously on the page before her, oblivious to everything that was going on in my head. I remembered her being in pain and how I couldn't stand watching her, unable to make it stop. How could I leave her?

And I wouldn't leave her. In the few days I'd known her for, I knew she could handle herself. I had to tell her. Soon. Maybe not right this second, but soon. She had a right to know, after all. Didn't she?

How could I tell her? "Good morning, Clara. How did you sleep last night? Oh, by the way, I'm in love with you." Yep. Pretty sure that wasn't going to work.

_Click._

"Doctor?" Clara's voice broke my thoughts from turning into a full-blown panic attack. I looked up at her.

"Yes, Clara?" I asked her and she smiled. Oh, her smile. It far surpassed the radiance of any sun I'd ever seen.

"I'm done." She said, gesturing to the little stack of paper to her left. Was she a fast writter or had time passed just that fast?

"Where to now?"

"How 'bout outside the facility?"

I raised my eyebrow. "Outside? You sure you want to let a 'hostile' outside?"

She laughed. It was like a tinkling bell. "Your not a hostile, Doctor." She stood up with a childishly devious smile. "C'mon!" She grabbed my hand and pulled me up and to the door. Droppng my hand to open the door, she surpressed the smile only long enough to get to the elevator, then it was back. We exited the elevator, and Clara led me through a series of hall, then out a security check, then finally out into the soon-to-be-setting sunlight.

"What state is this again?" I asked.

"Nevada." She smiled. "We're about 20 minutes outside of Las Vegas."

"Ah, Vegas." I murmured. "The city that truly never sleeps." She gave a little laugh. "What city are we in, then?"

"Summerlin South."

"You set up a top secret FBI base 20 minutes outside of _Las Vegas_?"

She full-out laughed. "Yes. Now, out of view of the building..." We walked along a little-worn path until we passed a thick grouping of trees into a clearing. Clara walked to the middle and sat down on the grass, and I sat down next to her.

We were quiet for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of birds flying overhead, the gentle brushing of the winds through the trees, before Clara spoke.

"How did you get into my base?" She asked quietly.

"Like I said before, my ship." I answered, and she frowned.

"There aren't any ports in Summerlin South, and if you came by ship you'd know where you are." Her frown deepened. "And you could _not_ have gotten into the AROU by just _walking in_."

I sighed. "Sometime, Clara, sometime soon... I'll tell you everything." I promised her. She seemed satisfied with my answer and nodded. "Tell me about your family." I picked randomly.

She thought for a moment. "Well, I have my dad, my mom, a brother... the movie family type thing."

"What are their names?" I asked, wanting to keep her talking.

"My mom's name is Stephanie, my dad's name is Jacob, and my brother's name is Jordan."

I nodded. "I saw a picture of a little girl on your desk... who is she?"

A proud smile slowly spread on her face. "Tasha. Short for Natasha. She's my brother's 5-year-old daughter."

"Five? Your only 23. How old was your brother when he had his daughter?" I asked in shock.

"He was seventeen." She answered. Seeing my surprise, she continued, "He wasn't careful when he was... 'having fun' and his girlfriend ended up pregnant. She decided she wanted to keep it, and they sorta stayed together. About a month or so after Melanie, that's the girlfriend's name, gave birth, they got married."

"Nice guy." I commented.

"Yeah, he's great. So's Melanie. She and my brother were 'childhood sweethearts', literally. They were actually dating when I was born, and Jordan's five years older than I am. Melanie was always so sweet to me. Picked me up from school with my brother, sometimes it was just her. She took me to movies and endured _hours_ of Disney."

"Sounds like a real sweetie." I put in. She nodded with a half smile.

"They have been married for almost ten years, and Tasha is their only child. I sneak around with her all the time. Melanie doesn't want her going to certain things, but I take her anyways. It's our little secret. And it's not like I'd let her get hurt."

No, I knew Clara wouldn't let her little neice be hurt. To stubborn, to caring.

"What about your family?" She asked quietly.

"Dead." I answered quietly.

"Oh." Clara murmured. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Clara." I said, and she reached out to squeeze my hand. "Let's talk about happier things." I suggested.

"Like what?" She asked.

"What's your favorite color?" Was what I thought of.

"Blue." She answered.

"Blue? Isn't blue a sad color?"

She shook her head. "People think blue is a sad color, but it really isn't. Happy things are blue, too. Like the sky. Bright sunny days with _blue_ skies."

"Okay, I get your point."

"What's yours?"

"Never really thought about that. I guess I like blue, too."

She smiled at me. The 'see-I-told-you' kind of look to it. The sun had lowered behind the trees, our surrondings darkened. I debated telling the blonde angel in front of me that I was in love with her right then, but chickened out and didn't.

She lied back in the grass, and I lied down beside her. "Where did you grow up?" She asked me, eyes on the sky.

"Cardiff. In the UK." I answered, choosing a place I had visited recently. "What about you?"

"Birmingham, Alabama." She answered.

"Wow. You travelled quite a ways to head this department."

She laughed. "Only across eight states." She turned her head to me. "I got transfered from Alabama to Texas, then Arkansas, back to Texas, Oklahoma, Mississippi... Texas... New Mexico, Arizona... Texas." She grinned. "They loved me in Texas." I chuckled. "Back to New Mexico, then finally to Vegas."

"Is your family still is Alabama?"

"No, they recently moved to West Sahara. Ten minutes out of Summerlin South."

So her family is close by. I had to wonder what I'd do about her father when I finally told her. Fathers were always the most difficult. And assuming she felt the same way. Looking at her, her eyes shining as she smiled at me, I held the hope that she did.

But had to tell her first. And telling Clara would have to be a delicate thing.


End file.
